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“Y ou promised, Felicity. How could you not keep your word when you know how much this means to me?” Grace couldn’t believe her sister had betrayed her, and she refused to allow Felicity’s teary-eyed shock to convince her to look aside just this once.

“You said no meat .” Felicity pointed at the wedding breakfast menu. “Kippers are fish. They are not meat. Everything is in accordance with your wishes. No animal was harmed in the making of your feast!”

“Except for those poor smoked kippers.” Grace thumped on that particular item on the menu even harder.

“Have you ever looked into the eyes of a herring? A fish is a living thing that hatches, grows to find another suitable fish, then lays eggs to bring little herrings into the world and protects them until they mature enough to make little herrings of their own. Papa showed me once in his book about fish. It’s still in the townhouse’s library in London, if you don’t believe me.

Those poor, tortured fish are not bushes that bloom, produce berries, go dormant in the winter, and wait for the gardener’s pruning and the bees pollinating to begat more berries the next season.

Berry bushes are not sentient beings. Fish are. ”

“You are impossible.” Felicity snatched the menu away and marched back to the door.

“Fish do not have feelings , Gracie. They are fish.” She snapped the creamy-white square of parchment as if it were a whip.

“But far be it from me to argue with Lady Grace, Mother Nature’s most devoted servant.

I shall keep the kippers on the sideboard in the kitchen.

If anyone wants them, they will have to ask Walters to fetch them. ”

“Fine.” Grace glared at her younger sister, determined to hold her ground on this day of all days. She was already a bundle of prickliness. Could Felicity not understand that?

“Yes, fine!” Felicity stamped her foot, then slammed the door on her way out.

“What in heaven’s name did you say to Felicity?” Joy asked as she entered the dressing room.

“She put kippers on the menu.” Grace glared at Joy, daring her to side with Felicity.

“Oh, dear heavens.” Joy made a dramatic show of pressing her hand to her forehead. “Not kippers for Gracie, the protector of anything that might look back at you from the plate.”

“Exactly!” When Joy put it like that, it did indeed appear as if she might have overreacted, but Grace wasn’t about to admit it.

Fish were living things. How did one know they did not have any feelings?

She preferred to err on the side of caution.

“Felicity is usually much more understanding. I can’t believe she did this to me, and on today of all days. ”

“Speaking of which, you’re not handling this day well at all. You never make Felicity cry. You’re always the one to protect her.”

And that was another thing. Grace felt absolutely horrid for being so bloody impossible to her sweet sister, who always took such pleasure in making things perfect for others.

“I’ll apologize to her the next time she returns, as I’m sure she will.

She has asked me innumerable questions this morning that could well have been handled yesterday or the day before. ”

“There’s the spirit. How could she possibly remain distraught with you when you positively overflow with such genuine remorse and understanding?”

“Sarcasm is very ugly on you, sister.” Grace flounced down and sat cross-legged on the floor in nothing but her shift. What on earth was wrong with her? She was barely tolerating her own presence, and if her stomach churned any harder, it would surely turn itself inside out.

Joy circled her while toeing a path through the utter disarray of the dressing room. “I saw Nellie in the kitchen fetching your third pot of tea. Do you think that wise? What happens when you need the chamber pot or bourdaloue at a critical juncture in your vows?”

Grace dropped her head into her hands. “I will more than likely need a bucket in which to cast up my accounts.”

“I have never seen you like this. You’re the fearless one.” Joy dropped beside her and rubbed her back. “You love Wolfe. Correct?”

“Correct.”

“You love the twins, and they love you. Correct?”

“Again—correct.”

“And Wolfe is even more unsociable than you are, preferring the country over Town. Am I correct on that as well?”

Grace lifted her head and stared into her sister’s eyes, which were the same shade of blue as her own. “You are correct on all counts, Joy, so why am I still so bloody miserable?”

“Is it becoming a duchess and overseeing a household that has you in such a state? You’re never this thorny. Not even on your worst of days.”

Grace flinched. Joy’s words stung like a slap.

“I know nothing about duchessing or running a household,” she said in a desperate whisper.

“I can run a stable and see that every animal on the estate is properly tended to, but I have no idea how to even plan what meals to feed a husband.” She dropped her face into her hands.

“I can’t very well order a bag of oats tied to his face, now can I? ”

“Well…you could.” Joy gave her an affectionate shake.

“I doubt, however, that your intended would appreciate that.” Laughing, she pulled Grace into a tighter hug.

“Your new housekeeper will help you. You know Mrs. Perridone. She’s Mrs. Flackney’s sister and would never let your home sink like a scuttled ship. ”

“Since when do you use nautical terms?”

“Unfortunately, most of the books in the library here are about ships and the sea. You know how that was one of Papa’s passions.

A visit to Creary’s Bookshop in the village for something to read other than Fortuity’s romances or the Royal Navy is definitely in order.

” She gently shook Grace again. “As I was saying, Mrs. Perridone was a housekeeper for the Portenses for as long as we’ve had Mrs. Flackney.

Consider yourself fortunate that Wolfe was able to coax her away on the recommendation of Mrs. Flackney. ”

The dressing room door swung open, and Nellie sidled in bearing a large tray with two round-bellied teapots, multiple cups, and an assortment of biscuits, scones, and sweet buns.

“Your tea, my lady, and I also brought your morning chocolate and favorite breads.” The maid gave Grace a pointed look.

“Then we must get you ready for your ceremony. It’s already half past seven, and the wedding is set for nine. ”

“I am leaving you to it, then.” Joy pushed up from the floor and shook out her skirts. “I shall send in Gastric and Galileo. Those two will make you feel better.”

“Thank you, Joy—for everything.” Grace already felt somewhat better after her sister’s encouragement.

She accepted a cup of chocolate from Nellie, took a sip, then realized she had run the poor maid in circles since before dawn.

“Nellie, pour yourself a cup of chocolate and sit for a little while. I’ve been an absolute beast this morning and feel terrible about it. ”

The maid turned to her with an open-mouthed stare, then tilted her head. “Beg pardon, my lady?”

“You heard me. Things can wait long enough for you to have a nice cup of chocolate and a bread or two. These past few days have been extra hard on you, what with packing my things and sending them over to the lodge. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, and I do appreciate you.”

The maid tucked her chin and smiled, obviously overwhelmed by the praise. “It was my pleasure, my lady. It truly was.” She poured herself a half cup of chocolate.

“Fill it to the brim,” Grace said. “You deserve it.”

Still smiling, Nellie filled the cup the rest of the way.

“Mrs. Flackney wrote to London. Your things should arrive from there within a fortnight, she said, and she already sent a note to Mrs. Perridone advising her of such.” The maid sat on a trunk, dipped a biscuit in her chocolate, then delicately nibbled at it. “Thank you, my lady.”

“You are quite welcome.” Grace cradled her cup between her hands, pulled in a deep breath, and resolved to do better toward those around her. Her worries gave her no right to be an unruly tempest with everyone else.

The dressing room door creaked open wider, and Gastric ambled in, followed by Galileo.

If anyone had ever told Grace that her favorite hound would someday take a surly orange cat as a best friend, she would’ve asked them if they’d been into the brandy.

The fluffy, pumpkin-colored feline rarely left Gastric’s side, and the hound had even been caught snuffling the cat’s ears and occasionally giving them a good wash with a swipe of his tongue.

The dog flopped down beside her, propped his nose on her leg, and looked at her with adoration and obvious pleading for a biscuit. His chocolate-brown eyes and faint whine were impossible to resist. Galileo sat in front of her, pinning her with a judgmental, unblinking stare.

After giving Gastric a biscuit, Grace offered one to the cat, who sniffed it, then recoiled as if it were poison. “I don’t know what you want, Galileo. Biscuits, tea, and hot chocolate are all I have, and I don’t believe anything other than the biscuits would be advisable for you to nibble.”

The feline gave an aloof flick of his ear, then turned his back to her as if to dismiss her presence. She was half tempted to tug on his slowly flipping tail just to aggravate him.

“I don’t understand cats,” she said to Nellie as the maid took her cup away and gently but firmly urged her to stand.

“As I see it,” Nellie said, “you are much like a cat, my lady. Independent. Know your own mind. Determined to go your own way. Perhaps that is why Master Galileo sometimes takes umbrage with you. Maybe he fears you will overshadow him.” She wrapped the stays around Grace and pulled them snugly while tightening the laces.

“Are you still wearing the blue silk, or have you decided on another?”